eggsy "disney prince" unwin. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tailorable) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nysalogs2018-01-14 05:21 pm
tailorable) wrote in nysalogs2018-01-14 05:21 pm
Entry tags:
( closed )
Who: eggsy unwin (tailorable) & peggy carter (revlon)
What: a quest!
When: january (exact dates tbd).
Where: the institute.
Warning(s): general profanity and vulgarity from eggsy's potty mouth tbh.
[ for once, he conforms to the guard's uniform policy entirely: plain, black clothes, including a recently gifted jumper and gloves, but without a snapback. the institute constitutes a key section of his usual patrol pattern, given his recent (bullshit) assignment to the noble district. since the new year, he's been visible nearby: chatting to familiar employees and strolling across the grounds around the sprawling complex with a leadless pug in tow. he's new and talkative, but he works hard, evidently, and never stays longer than necessary — there are plenty of posh twats in need of his supervision in olympia, apparently. more often than he admits, he wonders if he made the right choice by claiming he had no preference between the principal cities on el nysa, when he liked the rough and tumble of the jungle better. (at least it's a city, he thinks, unlike london in every way but closer in concept and, blessedly, climate).
as it happens, his visits afford him a robust knowledge of the available routes into the institute.
when the day arrives to pursue their lead, he doesn't rendezvous with peggy beforehand, and they enter separately, with the same, rough location in mind for a final stop. naturally, they're capable of entering the premises on their own. best not to visibly arrive together, too, regardless of what happens after this. perhaps it's paranoia, or his own experience with rough jobs, but he can only assume something will go wrong. still, the con has been surprisingly smooth for the moment. when he rounds the corner to their designated point of intersection (the hallway containing the entrance to the archives), he feels nearly confident. it helps that he's wearing the magic equivalent of a wire and a go-go-gadget watch, among other bespoke items. despite his taste in hats, the boy knows how to accesorize. ]
tailorable) & peggy carter (revlon) What: a quest!
When: january (exact dates tbd).
Where: the institute.
Warning(s): general profanity and vulgarity from eggsy's potty mouth tbh.
[ for once, he conforms to the guard's uniform policy entirely: plain, black clothes, including a recently gifted jumper and gloves, but without a snapback. the institute constitutes a key section of his usual patrol pattern, given his recent (bullshit) assignment to the noble district. since the new year, he's been visible nearby: chatting to familiar employees and strolling across the grounds around the sprawling complex with a leadless pug in tow. he's new and talkative, but he works hard, evidently, and never stays longer than necessary — there are plenty of posh twats in need of his supervision in olympia, apparently. more often than he admits, he wonders if he made the right choice by claiming he had no preference between the principal cities on el nysa, when he liked the rough and tumble of the jungle better. (at least it's a city, he thinks, unlike london in every way but closer in concept and, blessedly, climate).
as it happens, his visits afford him a robust knowledge of the available routes into the institute.
when the day arrives to pursue their lead, he doesn't rendezvous with peggy beforehand, and they enter separately, with the same, rough location in mind for a final stop. naturally, they're capable of entering the premises on their own. best not to visibly arrive together, too, regardless of what happens after this. perhaps it's paranoia, or his own experience with rough jobs, but he can only assume something will go wrong. still, the con has been surprisingly smooth for the moment. when he rounds the corner to their designated point of intersection (the hallway containing the entrance to the archives), he feels nearly confident. it helps that he's wearing the magic equivalent of a wire and a go-go-gadget watch, among other bespoke items. despite his taste in hats, the boy knows how to accesorize. ]
no subject
Better than going in blind.
The thing is, this mission goes beyond the silver they'll be paid in. Both of them have a deeply vested interest in knowing more about the marketplace attack. So to look into disease manufacturing and artificial intelligence on top of whatever Peggy had already uncovered some months ago — well, hopefully that'll provide more answers than more questions. ]
Good evening, [ comes her soft greeting when she rounds a corner and spots Eggsy. She's dressed similarly to him, sacrificing her usual style for stealth — uncurled hair pulled back into a low ponytail, face bare of makeup and her signature red lipstick, nails plain. With only a few years between her and Eggsy, the lack makes her look younger. ] You're very punctual. I like that in a partner.
[ Which is very much what they are in this. She doesn't waste time telling him she's grateful he's joined her, that can come after. Instead, she checks the watch on her wrist (very normal) then inclines her head to the entrance to the archive. ]
This area should be clear of patrol for at least twelve minutes. Fancy taking a crack at that door?
no subject
partners, yeah, he's only ever had that with roxy and then harry — it still feels fresh to him. not so new that it seems foreign, mind you, but it manages to catch him off guard nonetheless. every day marks a new reason to be fond of peggy carter, it seems. as soon as she speaks, he kneels to fiddle with the lock. he can be quick and professional, when it suits him, after all. ]
Think I've got expertise in this area, now do you?
[ teasing, as ever. he does, of course, from both before and after kingsman. light-fingered, as he so loves to say. after a minute or two of tinkering, the door clicks open. he supposes it isn't as if the institute is specially outfitted to prevent breaking and entering. ]
no subject
The archive isn't simply one room, although it appears that way — there are a few doors that lead elsewhere, likely storage or some antechamber. Research and incomplete experiments lie on tabletops, chalkboards and papers scribbled with notes that likely only make sense to whoever penned them (or, at least, someone with more knowledge in the scientific field than Peggy's own passing familiarity). Peggy scans a few on the nearest surface in case anything leaps out at her, but it's immediately clear that — ]
This could take a bit. [ God knows how they'll suss out what's useful and what isn't. She huffs out a breath, wandering a few more steps. ] I think our best course of action is to take photographs of anything that looks even remotely interesting or...
[ And her eyes land on an ornate metal device in a dusty glass case, brows knitting. ]
... suspicious, [ she finishes, stepping up to it. It reminds her of one of Howard's botched inventions, honestly. Which means it could be nastier than it looks. ] Like you.
no subject
Her voice trailing off pulls his focus.
Like that, indeed.
Eggsy pulls a face, scrunching his nose, and lifts his watch to snap a picture of it from where he stands a bit away, placing it in context, and returns to cataloguing notes. It's certainly not his area of expertise, but he figures the device could fit right in at the National History Museum. ]
Positively medieval.
no subject
[ She hasn't got any idea what this thing is, but she's quick to notice the streaks through the dust that suggest the glass case has been moved or tampered with. She's not about to pick it up to see for herself but she does tip her head to see if she can make out any fingerprints (none, but it was worth a shot). ]
Someone's used this recently. [ It looks like a bloody torture device, but she can't be certain. Howard Stark created a device for body massage and it breaks people's bones. ] Our friends have been very busy.
[ Photographs taken, Peggy moves on. If she lifts a book, she replaces it precisely as it was found. Pages are shuffled through and put back in the right order. They work efficiently and in relative silence, until she breaks it with: ]
Quite the way to spend an evening, isn't it?
no subject
Our colleagues.
[ a light correction to our friends, though it's said wryly. file being a double agent under other things that turn his stomach (being an agent full stop is a challenge on some days, too). oh, and add these anatomy drawings to the list while they're here because, holy fuck, he's unsettled by anything remotely reminiscent of animal testing. the scrawled notes make him swallow: "BLEEDING FROM MUCOUS MEMBRANES". what the actual fuck? ]
They've had a go at something living. [ somethings. someones. ah, there's the nausea. his frown tightens, but he captures more photographs in silence until she speaks. ] Mm, some might call it romantic. [ y'know, with the secret rendezvous (and not the, uh, torture devices). ]
no subject
She's about to consider ducking off to one of the side rooms when Eggsy says something she doesn't expect. Something living? Peggy crosses back into his space, peering over his shoulder to have a look at those notes for herself. ]
I don't know what you're talking about, [ she says rather airily, coming right up against his side to spread those drawings out before them. ] Grotesque anatomical sketches about live test subjects is precisely my idea of a good time.
[ Christ. He's taken photos, she's sure, but she takes an extra set for herself. She's got half a mind to show these to John Watson, to get his medical opinion on the matter. ]
Increased aggression and hallucinations... [ That's softly murmured as she reads it out loud. ] I encountered a poison gas back home that triggered similar reactions; needless to say it didn't end well. What the hell were they cooking up down here?
no subject
Nothing to help the sick, seems like.
[ is he still bitter about the handling of the epidemic? abso-fucking-lutely. what's the point in waging a chemical war when your people are dying? that's some backwards logic, even for power-hungry posh pricks.
still, peggy's words trigger a memory of his own. ]
Someone told me about a giant spider that caused hallucinations on the road to Olympia. Maybe they've got its venom here or something.
[ he doesn't know much about spider biology, but he assumes that's a thing. ]
no subject
Sometimes I forget you didn't land with the first wave of us. [ It's a comment on their friendship, of course. They were thrown together so abruptly and meshed so well from the start that it's strange to think it hasn't always been like this. Peggy doesn't make friends very quickly or easily, but the circumstances that forged this particular bond were altogether too spot-on for who they are. ] When we hiked through the forest from the crash site, some of us did run into those bloody giant spiders. It's a good theory.
[ And doesn't necessarily bode well. Peggy shoots Eggsy a glance that's half grimace, half smile, then pushes off to explore the rest of the vast chamber. She isn't sure how much longer they can linger here without being disturbed; she doubts people at the Institute keep regular office hours. Most, likely, but not all. People buried in their research and experiments, science for science's sake — or more sinister reasons, as they're learning.
She does find a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY further along, which is intriguing enough. But more interesting is the note pinned to it. ]
Hey, [ she calls softly over her shoulder. Then: ] Seems as though we aren't the first to poke our noses in here.